Damage Control
by enchantedstarlight
Summary: Upon seeing his own grief reflected in Tauriel's tears, the elven king finds compassion reawaken in his heart - and a way to give hope. But hope is just the beginning.
1. Chapter 1 - Grief

The young elf sobbed. No, she wailed. Thranduil had never seen such emotion out of his once stoic, efficient former Captain. When she'd been only a small child and had lost her parents, she'd wept, full of fear and confusion and anger, but that had been nothing compared to her current state. The waves of raw emotion that emanated from her showed that she was far beyond simple grief.

"If this is love, then take it away. Please!" she begged. "I don't want to feel this way."

Tauriel had never begged - not once in six centuries. The sound of her plea struck the depths of his frozen soul, calling to a part of him that he'd hidden away for over two millennia. He had practically raised Tauriel. He had mentored her, favored her, but had always kept himself emotionally detached from the orphaned elleth. He had not allowed himself to feel attachment to anyone, for many, many centuries - not even opening up for his own son. But now, her distress was so genuine, so compelling, so familiar to his own pain, that he felt a part of him stir.

"Why?" she begged, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Why does it hurt so much?"

A part of him broke upon hearing her pleading question, and compassion, a long lost emotion, came forth. He realized that he, more than any, truly understood what she was feeling.

And she felt such pain for a dwarf.

There was an irony there. Perhaps a lesson from Valar. But he would contemplate that later, after he addressed the pressing need before him. He could no longer deny that he cared about her.

He knelt, lowering himself to her level so that she could see the honesty in his response. "Because it was real," he said, his eyes brimming with his own tears. They were not words of comfort, for there was no comfort that could be given. Only an explanation. He could offer nothing more, because he'd never found an answer for himself.

In that moment, he regretted his choice to discourage any relationship the elleth might have had with his son. Had he done otherwise, their friendship might have been more, and she would have been spared this pain. His son might have stayed by his side.

But that was not to be. It might never have been. Legolas and Tauriel had been friends for centuries, and while they cared for each other, there had never been a comparison to what Thranduil now saw. In only a short time, she had bared her heart to a dwarf with such intensity that now she might fade from this life.

He remained silent, but mentally mulled over her foolishness. During her short life, Thranduil had done his duty to guide her, tried to teach her to keep her heart closed, but she was young, so very, very young. A mere six centuries was hardly long enough to truly learn the risk of opening one's heart. He had thought he had succeeded, but Tauriel was impetuous, impulsive, and had been growing more restless in recent years. It was inevitable that she would rebel, as any young one might, but Thranduil had underestimated the possible consequences.

The sight before him was one he'd seen too many times in his long life.

The ancient king had known such pain, once, so long ago. When he'd lost his wife, he had wished desperately to fade and follow his beloved across the sea, but he'd had a son and a kingdom. Both had needed him. Perhaps a part of him had faded, and only a shell had remained to rule, to protect his people. As a result, he had strived to minimize the danger to his kingdom, so that none would have to face what he had faced. He had no desire to see his subjects suffer and fade the way Tauriel was doing now.

But he had failed, and they'd been drawn into battle despite his efforts. Perhaps it had been the right choice to isolate his forest home, but it had only delayed the inevitable. Some of his people would be feeling such loss today and, as king, he would have to provide strength and comfort. In doing so, he would have to continue to face his own pain, and he was not looking forward to the task.

He watched in fascination as she desperately clutched the dwarf's limp hand. Then, she leaned down to kiss him. Thranduil turned away, giving her that privacy. She was reluctant to pull away, but Thranduil was a patient man. He would give her all the time that she needed. He used those moments to try formulate a way to give her purpose again, to keep her from giving up.

The sound of a stone hitting rock distracted him and he looked at the elleth again as she picked up a token and held it to her heart. Her intense sobbing had lessened and was being replaced by a vacant, haunted look in her eyes.

Unable to bear seeing such lifelessness in her once vibrant features, the elven king focused his gaze on the stone in her hand. A brief glimpse of the markings caught his eye.

"What is that?" he asked. In a way, he felt that it was rude to interrupt her thoughts, but at some point she would need to pull her mind back to the world. Conversation, or a command from her king, might help.

She did not take her gaze from the dwarf as she answered, "A token, my Lord. Kili gave it to me."

"May I see it?"

She nodded, appearing confused for a moment, but obediently handed him the stone, before turning her attention back to the body, running her fingers through the dwarf's hair.

Immediately upon taking the stone, Thranduil recognized the dwarvish runes. He'd not seen such markings in a long time, but his memory was flawless. The runes clearly stated, "Return to me."

The runes were used in dwarven magic.

The concept was familiar to the king. At one time, dwarves and elves had lived in harmony, sharing their language, their lore and the secrets of their magic. Dwarven magic was different from that of the elves, rarely used, but having its own purpose nonetheless. Thranduil could not deny that there was something significant about the token.

"He gave this to you. What did he say?"

She looked up at him, finally, her expression confused, but he was glad because the question had pulled her out of the bottomless depth of sorrow. It redirected her mind from the moment, if only temporarily.

"He said that I should take it as a promise that he would return," she replied, her lips turning downward at the memory of the futile promise.

A promise to return, uttered upon the stone carved in the private language of the dwarves. Dwarves had been created from the stone, and such a promise was not taken lightly. Thranduil recalled the old dwarven customs and protections that had been common at one time. But, like ancient elven magic, much of the knowledge had been lost over the millenia and, in the case of mortal beings like the dwarves, knowledge had been lost over generations. Thranduil wondered if the dwarf had even known the power of what he had possessed. More than likely, the token was given in sentiment, its true meaning unknown. Fortunately for this particular dwarf, Thranduil still retained that ancient knowledge.

"Remove his armor," the king commanded, his tone causing the elleth to jump in shock. "We must access the wound and repairl it before we proceed."

A week ago, she would have moved to follow his order immediately and without question. But now, she faltered. She knelt protectively over the body, as if wondering if her king had gone mad and was intending to do harm in some way. Thranduil might have laughed at the action, had the situation not been so dire.

"Do it!" he commanded. "We have little time if you wish to save him."

He could practically read the thoughts in her head at that moment. Save him, although he was already dead. It was almost comical how the shock and realization then translated into haste action. Immediately, her fingers flew to the buckles and straps holding the heavy chain mail surrounding the dwarf's broad chest.

King Thranduil himself then knelt by her side, assisting her in her task.

He questioned his sanity in that moment. He'd despised dwarves for millenia. Many of his own people lay on the battlefield, injured, dying, and grieving their own losses, yet he was here, spending his time and energy on one dwarf, but his reason was clear: Despite all his reluctance to admit to himself, he was fond of this elleth, and like a father, he wanted to do anything in his power to alleviate the horrible pain that she now endured. For all her confidence and skill, she was still little more than a child and seeing grief akin to his own, echoed in her eyes, was a far greater burden than holding to an age-old grudge.

The layers of mail and leather fell away, and the king placed his hands over the still-raw wound, chanting the familiar elvish words to call forth healing. Mentally, he felt the still-warm tissue bind and mend beneath his magic. He did not think of the dwarf, only of the task before him, isolating his thoughts.

When the task was done, he lifted one elegant hand and commanded, "Give me the stone." Instantly, he felt the smooth object in his palm, still warm from Tauriel's touch. He placed the stone over the warrior's heart. He knew the words. Ancient words, full of depth and power meant to call to Mahal, the maker of the dwarves, but he could not command those words with the passion that was required. He took Tauriel's hand and pulled her toward the dwarf to kneel beside him.

"Place your hands over the stone, and repeat after me. Do not mis-speak. If you do not understand, say nothing and I will repeat. The pronunciation must be exact."

She nodded, her body leaning forward, both hands over the stone as if she was willing her own soul to it. That was good. There would be more power to call forth.

Slowly, methodically, he spoke the ancient verses, praying to the dwarven god. He watched his young ward, with her eyes closed, pouring every bit of strength out of herself and into the words. The spell would drain every ounce of energy from her, but he knew she would not care.

She did not falter. She did not mis-speak. Every echo of his words were repeated with perfect clarity, pronunciation, and with emotion. He felt pride fill his heart. This was a child he had raised, and raised to perfection. Everything she did, she did well and with her entire being. Even love.

He sent a silent prayer to Valar that they would grant her this one, desperate wish.

They stayed, unmoving, for what seemed like hours, yet was likely no more than mere minutes, continuing to repeat the ancient Dwarvish words. Yet, Thranduil refused to stop until was certain that it would not work.

Finally, after an eternity, a warm red glow emanated from beneath Tauriel's hands. It grew in intensity, spreading from the stone and across the dwarf's chest, until his body gave a great, heaving intake of air. Tauriel paused, ready to shout for joy, but the king touched her shoulder, willing her to remain focused on the task. Thranduil now changed the words from those that summoned, to a binding, a willing the soul to tether itself to the body it had once inhabited. This was the longer, more dangerous part of the magic. The stone was merely a tether, a means to reach over the great barrier to call the soul back. Now, it needed to remain in its vessel, or risk walking the earth unattached. If the dwarf did not wish to remain, then their efforts would fail.

Tauriel's musical voice continued to chant, until she was nearly hoarse from the exertion, the strength leaving her body. Finally, the sun began to set, turning the sky as red as the elf-maid's hair, and the king saw the dwarf's lips move, although no sound came forth. "Tauriel," was the single word that he'd tried to utter.

Thranduil placed his hands on the young elf's shoulders, indicating it was time to stop. She looked up at him, desperate hope in her eyes.

"We have done all we can. Now we wait." He paused, then added, "Do not hold too much hope."

She tried to get up, but it was clear she did not have the strength. He took her hand, helping her rise, although she stood somewhat unsteadily.

"We must leave. They will be looking for him soon."

"To bury him," she said, her chest heaving with fear.

"That may still be necessary, but not today."

She looked at him, her eyes full of fear. "But, he breathes."

"He has lost a great deal of blood. His wounds remain grievous. And it takes far longer for the soul to heal than the body. Do not hold too much hope," he repeated firmly.

Still, he could see the fire rekindle in her eyes. For that, the world-weary king brightened, feeling a warmth that he'd not allowed himself to feel for far too long. For that, it was worth it.


	2. Chapter 2 - Shock

_A/N – First, thank you to all for the positive feedback and all the follows! I've never had such a strong response to a story and I'm humbled. (I also cleaned up chapter 1 a little because it had some rough spots, so feel free to re-read. I think you'll like it even more.)_

_I fought with making this chapter from Tauriel's point of view, but she is muddled and uncertain right now. I will probably have a chapter giving her perspective later. Maybe around chapter 4. For now, Thranduil calls to me – because it's a challenge for me to get into the head of a three thousand year-old king. I hope you enjoy. _

\- xo xo xo xo xo -

Tauriel stood shaking and staring down at the dwarf. In Thranduil's long experience, it was clear that she was very much in shock, overwhelmed by the magnitude of the days events. She would need time to recover. Nevertheless, there was need for haste if the plan he was formulating were to work.

"Tauriel!" he commanded again, forcing her to focus. "We must leave now."

"Of course, My Lord."

There was a wheezing in her breath as she said the words and that was when he noticed the bruises on her neck, the marks on her face, the torn clothing, and the way she clutched at her side. She had been injured during the battle. Badly.

Her encounter against the spawn of Azog had been far worse than he'd initially realized. Bolg had been a formidable foe and Thranduil sent a silent thanks to the gods that his son had emerged victorious in his battle against the beast.

Legolas.

The king frowned. His son was gone from him. Possibly never to return. A moment of regret and sadness threatened to overwhelm him but, with practiced ease, Thranduil pushed the thought aside. His duty as king demanded that he concentrate his thoughts on his immediate task and to do such meant that he must ignore the feelings that would ruin him. Tauriel had accused him of being without love, what she didn't understand was that love was a luxury that a king could not afford. Even now, allowing himself this small opening in his heart for this young one was dangerous, but nothing could staunch the flow of emotion pouring forth.

Yet, after long centuries of isolating himself, the wondered if, perhaps, it was time for change.

He could do nothing to repair the damage he'd done to the relationship with his son, but he could help Tauriel, and his people, now. 

Thinking that her king intended for her to leave the dwarf, she was reluctant to move, despite his order. But Thranduil had neither the time nor the desire to explain. If they left the dwarf, others would come to claim him and, for the moment, and in the best interest of Tauriel, Thranduil could not allow that to happen.

He knelt, once again, next to the prone form of the dwarf, quickly removing the ruined armor and leather that the creature had worn, then tossed it over the side of the cliff. The chasm was deep; deep enough so that the armor would be visible, but it would not be obvious that it was not encasing an actual body. Then, with a quick glance at the tear-streaked face of the elf he thought of as a daughter, he gently gathered the dwarf up into his arms, like a child, albeit a very muscular, heavy child.

"Come, Tauriel," he said, turning away from her toward the narrow path that led back down to the valley, knowing, with profound certainty, that she would follow. 

He had some misgivings about his hasty plan, and about the dwarf in his arms, but he would never allow such thoughts to be uttered aloud. Instead, he deliberately held his bearing to emanate a strong sense of purpose, well-aware that Tauriel would react to his leadership.

As he neared the base of the cliff, he saw his guard awaiting his return and immediately handed the dwarf over to one of them.

"Tauriel is injured," he informed them. "Take them both back to our home," he said, his intense gaze adding weight to his next words. "Make certain that you are not seen."

The question in their eyes regarding the dwarf was obvious. They had witnessed his earlier confrontation with Tauriel, therefore the king deduced that they would need further instructions. "There may be questions about Tauriel, or her knowledge of what happened during the battle. If asked, inform them that her whereabouts are unknown and that she remains banished."

He caught a slight widening of Tauriel's eyes at the words and quickly placed a hand on her shoulder. "Go with them, Tauriel. I will return when matters here are settled. We will speak then."

Her shoulders dropped in relief and he nodded in affirmation to the silent question of his guards.

He watched them go, one guard placing a cloak over her shoulders to hide her distinctive hair. She followed anxiously, and again, Thranduil took note of her unusual behavior. This was not his strong Tauriel, although he hoped she might be again, with time.

Then, he headed back toward Dale. There was much to be done.

\- x -

Thranduil had nearly always hated the ways of mortals. He had been more open-minded in his youth, but experience had taught him to place little value on their decisions. Their limited lifespan often led them to making decisions that might only benefit themselves for a few decades. Rarely did Thranduil find any of them willing to take a longer view.

However, after recent events and the undeniable truth that the darkness had returned, the short-term plans for Erebor, Dale and Mirkwood were now aligned. As the king of Mirkwood, Thranduil needed to diplomatically forge an alliance with the men of Dale and the dwarves of Erabor, and ensure that all agreements were in the best interest of his people.

However, the king under the mountain was dead, as was his first heir, and it was assumed that the remaining heir was also deceased, leaving a large gaping hole in leadership. Dain Ironfoot was the next in line for the throne, and Thranduil did not look forward to trying to reason with the notoriously obstinate king of the Iron Hills. That was where the younger heir's absence worked to Thranduil's advantage. Without the body, or other proof of his death, King Dain could not yet be able to take control as leader of the mountain realm. Had they had the young Kili alive, they would wait for his recovery and Dain would still take charge and influence the youngster. The ambiguity of the young dwarf's fate left a notable gap, allowing Thranduil to influence and reach the optimal compromise.

It was part of the reason he'd taken the badly injured dwarf, so that knowledge of his condition, for good or ill, would be released only when Thranduil wished.

But first, he needed to endure the council of the wizard.

"I have sent a contingent to gather supplies from my kingdom's stores," Thranduil informed him. "All who remain here will be in desperate need of food and shelter for the winter."

Gandalf nodded, taking a long draw from the pipe in his hand, trying to guage the king's true intent. "I am sure that Bard will appreciate whatever aid can be rendered. He is already in your debt."

"The food will be offered to the dwarves as well."

The wizard raised a suspicious eyebrow, indicating that he suspected Thranduil's intentions were not altogether altruistic.

Thranduil sighed. "I do not deny that the threat will return, Mithrandia. It is only a matter of time. We must form an alliance because none of us can stand against such a foe alone. I have put aside our differences, I expect the dwarves to do the same."

"The dwarves will do nothing until they have buried their dead."

"As will we," he said firmly. "But we have a few days to determine the best course of action. I would like to use that time wisely. "

"Will you attend the funeral of Thorin?" Gandalf asked.

"It is my intent. I have spoken with Bard about offering the Arkenstone as a gesture of our goodwill as part of the ceremony."

The wizard nodded thoughtfully. "It would be well received."

"I will still ask for my fair settlement," Thranduil added.

The wizard considered the statement for a moment, taking another long draw from his pipe before responding, "Agreed. You may be in luck. With the body of Kili still missing, Dain will not be able to claim the crown and the stone just yet."

Thranduil attempted to look surprised, although he was enormously pleased that his plan seemed to be working. "Is that so?"

The wizard raised an eyebrow suspiciously, although Thranduil pretended not to care. "The remaining members of the company have first claim on the contents of the mountain, by contract."

Thranduil could not help but sneer at the statement. He might have helped Tauriel's dwarf, and he might be willing to enter into an alliance with the dwarven kingdom, but there were certain traits among dwarves that were undeniable. He responded with disdain, "Yes, dwarves and their contracts. Most are as worthless as the paper on which they are written."

Gandalf closed his eyes for a moment, clearly annoyed, but when he spoke, his voice was calm. "These dwarves will likely be reasonable. They are devoutly loyal to Thorin and they will want to see the stone remains within the mountain. I am certain they can be persuaded to your terms."

But Thranduil was far from satisfied with the response. He could not, would not risk his people's future on the fickle greed of the mountain creatures, and he needed more information about the one he now had hidden within his own kingdom's halls. He could not help but to needle the wizard further.

"And what if the other heir, Kili, is still alive? Will he not wish to take possession of this gem? Do we risk another dwarf king falling under its spell?" It was a dangerous question to ask, because it might lead others to suspect that Thranduil knew more than he was telling.

Gandalf paused, hope springing to his eyes for a brief moment before shaking his head negatively. "Legolas himself told me that Kili had been killed. It is unfortunate that the body appears to be in an unreachable location. But, to address your concern: Kili was not his uncle."

"And Thorin was not Thror, yet he still succumbed to the dragon-sickness, even having seen the effect it had on his grandfather."

The wizard gave a loud, "Hmmph," before continuing. "And he overcame it."

"Almost at the expense of war," Thranduil reminded. "And what of Dain? Eventually, Dain will want to claim the throne. What if he also succumbs to this sickness? As long as the stone remains, it is dangerous."

The wizard seemed to consider the words, then nodded. "Agreed." He then paused and looked at the elven king suspiciously. "Are you suggesting that the stone remain with Thorin?"

Thranduil had to fight to keep a smile from coming to his lips that the wizard actually had drawn the desired conclusion. It was rare that he could get the fool wizard to agree to anything reasonable and this particular matter was far too important to lose in a pointless argument. Thranduil responded as calmly and logically as his emotions would allow. "Dain is not yet crowned King Under the Mountain. It may be our only opportunity to stop the effects of this curse. You must agree, after seeing Thorin, that no good comes from that stone."

The wizard nodded with resignation, and a small amount of sadness. "The stone belongs with Thorin's line, and that is now ended. It would be seen as a fitting way to honor a fallen king." He sighed. "I will speak to the company to ensure that it is buried with its king and I will seal the tomb myself. None will be able to reach it."

Satisfied, Thranduil gave a graceful nod of his head in the direction of the wizard. With Gandalf influencing the mortals, negotiations would go much more easily.


	3. Chapter 3 - Recovery

**A/N – So, Thranduil had allowed to feel again, but he's not a changed man – er, elf. He is still king, and he still has his agenda. It's interesting to try to balance both. **

**Again, thank you for your gracious reviews, and the follows and favorites. I feel honored that this has been so well-received. **

**I have received requests to somehow have Thorin and Fili survive, but I just don't see it as realistic for this particular spin of the story. I've also received requests to keep Kili dead – so, now I can definitely say that I can't please everyone. :)**

x

Three days after the battle, Thorin and his nephew were laid to rest in the bowels of the mountain, along with the accursed stone. Only Dain Ironfoot seemed to be truly unhappy about the arrangement, but he outwardly said nothing to contradict leaving the stone with Thorin.

Almost immediately after, Thranduil and his guard began the journey back to the forest, escorting the wizard and the hobbit on the first leg of their journey back to the Shire. Thranduil studied the small creature who had braved Thorin's wrath to bring them the Arkenstone and recalled his description of the dwarves. He'd called the creatures "kind and loyal." Hardly descriptive of any of the dwarves in Thranduil's history, but his personal contact with the creatures had been, deliberately, limited.

If they had extended this loyalty to an outsider such as this hobbit, perhaps Tauriel might also have earned some aspect of loyalty due to her connection with Thorin's nephew. Such a connection might be useful, but that remained to be seen. He did not wish to use Tauriel in such a way but would not hesitate if the need arose.

The hobbit appeared introspective, clearly still in reflection over the recent funeral, but Thranduil needed to learn more about this hobbit, and what he knew of the dwarves and their loyalties.

"Hobbits are a rare sight in this part of the world, Mr. Baggins," the king said, trying to draw the quiet creature into conversation.

The hobbit nodded. "I can't say that's surprising. It's not considered proper for hobbits to go adventuring. We tend to like things to be... predictable."

"As do elves," he replied. "Yet, events happen that foil our best efforts sometimes."

The hobbit nodded.

"Our Mithrandia has made note of your unique insight and character. With such traits, I find it remarkable that you would choose to travel with a company of dwarves."

The hobbit smiled humbly. "Yes, well, I hardly expected it myself. But, I don't regret it."

Prompting for more, the king said, "I was rather intrigued by your description of them, when you brought us the stone. You say that you found them to be good companions?"

The hobbit gave a small smile. "I can't say I liked them much at first, but I've come to grow rather fond of them."

"Indeed. You must have done well to earn their respect."

"I'd like to think I was honest, and I did my best to contribute. I wasn't exactly helpful at the beginning of the journey. I think I tried Thorin's patience."

Thranduil nodded and the pair rode on silently.

After some minutes, the hobbit spoke again. "Do you think that they will return? The orcs, I mean."

Thranduil sighed. "The wizard is correct. The darkness has returned and this is a strategic location. However, we may have some time to prepare for the next attack. To be successful, we must ally with each other."

The hobbit thought. "Thorin was a good person, you know. I know you had your differences but, he cared about his people. He wanted..." Then, he paused, clearly emotional. "When the journey began, he just wanted to reclaim his home, for his people. He was a man of his word."

Thranduil considered the information. "Dragon sickness is not a trivial matter."

"Yet you wanted your white gems as much as Thorin wanted the Arkenstone – enough to go to war." The words were said without malice, but with utter truthfulness and conviction, and Thranduil suddenly realized that there was more to this small creature than his outward appearance indicated.

He took a deep breath, uncomfortable with being confronted with his own actions. "Did you speak so plainly to Thorin?"

The hobbit shrugged. "Well, I suppose I did," he said, appearing thoughtful and slightly abashed. "I suppose that it's just in my nature that I have to speak my mind. I'd like to think that sometimes I was able to help."

Thranduil responded with a dry chuckle. Hardly a laugh, but the hobbit's forthright nature did amuse him. "I would see how you tried his patience."

The hobbit looked up at the elegant king from his small pony and said possibly the most surprising thing that Thranduil had ever heard in three thousand years. "You know, you and Thorin are very much alike. I would think that, given time – and a bit of understanding - you might have been friends."

x – x -

As soon as the hobbit and wizard were settled for the evening, Thranduil went to check on his young former captain and her secret charge. Reports of her recovery had been troubling and he felt the need to address her himself.

He entered the room to find her seated, still in the same clothing that he'd last seen her, dirty and unkept, keeping vigil at the bedside of the still-unconscious dwarf. She held his head, gently spooning broth into his mouth, carefully ensuring that he swallowed the liquid. The sight was troubling, and Thranduil once again found his heart softening toward his adopted daughter's plight.

"Tauriel," he said, as gently as he could.

She stood, her legs shaking from weakness. "My Lord," she replied, forcing a formal bow, her stiff action showing that she was still in some pain from her encounter with Bolg.

He looked at her critically, taking in her haggard appearance. "You have not rested," he stated. "You have not properly attended to your own injuries."

"No, my Lord," she said, gesturing to Kili. "He still sleeps. He needs care, and as long as he breathes, there is a chance..." Her voice broke slightly, giving indication that she still feared that the dwarf would not recover.

The king frowned and took a deep, annoyed breath. "You do him no good if you do harm to yourself."

Tauriel looked down, her eyes darting across the floor as if looking for an answer. "No, my Lord."

He huffed in annoyance, then walked over to the dwarf. A brief check showed that his breathing was regular, and his heart was beating strongly in his chest. Clearly, the dwarf was recovering, but Tauriel's anxious fear had skewed her perception. She had come close to allowing herself to fade, and was still under the stress of the traumatic experience.

Physical injuries were simple to address. Emotional ones were almost foreign to him. He'd nearly faded from life, and had only survived by pushing aside his own feelings, making him almost immune to the emotions of those around him. He'd seen companions fade away after their own losses, but never had he seen one go through circumstances as drastic as Tauriel had experienced in the past few days. His heart had opened to this child, but it did not give him the ability to help her through her current ordeal.

However, he was still her king and, as such, he did not need to rely on reason. He stood, towering over her, and was rewarded by her taking a step back, her chin lifting, as she automatically reverted to habit, awaiting his command. "He has improved. I will watch over him. Eat..." he commanded. Then, he paused, looking her over again, his nose lifting in disgust, "Bathe. No harm will come to him, I assure you."

She appeared surprised, and a bit hesitant. He almost expected her to object, but a tilt of his head gave indication that he was not about to tolerate any argument. Immediately, she cast a glance to the dwarf to verify that his condition did not seem too dire, then a look back to him, she nodded and left the room, unable to deny a direct command from her king.

Thranduil allowed himself a smug smile as he watched the door close behind her. His first, and most important objective seemed to have been achieved. Tauriel no longer seemed to be in danger of fading, but the circumstances brought a great many complications.

He turned back to the dwarf. Unlike Tauriel, he had clearly been fed and bathed. His coloring was good. His ruined tunic had been replaced with a garment of fresh, clean linen. It fitted the dwarf perfectly, and Thranduil couldn't help but notice the particular pattern of stitching, one that Tauriel commonly used. The stitching brought forth memories of Tauriel when she was young, and it made the ancient king smile with affection. Tauriel was a fine fighter, flawless with her bow and daggers, and willing to work endlessly to perfect her skill, but she had always hated seamstress work and had always bartered with others when she needed such work done for her own use. Now, it was clear that she had put aside her personal distaste for sewing and had handmade an appropriate garment for the dwarf.

"It is time for you to wake, dwarf," he said. "I do not care if you live or die, but she needs you."

x

She returned quickly, although Thranduil was not surprised. Despite her king's assurance, it was apparent that she had no desire to be away from the dwarf's side any longer than necessary.

Thranduil eyed her carefully. Outwardly, she was the picture of calm efficiency, but small details showed her inner turmoil. She was now clean, but her hair was still damp. She carried a plate of fruit and wore a loose dress, clearly something she had borrowed because it was rare to see her wearing anything of the sort. Still, it was an improvement from the stale clothing she'd worn earlier.

Hoping to lift her spirits, he gave her an encouraging smile. "He is much improved since we tended to him. However, I have ordered him to hasten his recovery, for your sake."

His attempt at humor was weak, but she picked up on it, and then, for the first time in far, far too long, he saw the small sparkle in her eyes as she responded, "I do not think that a dwarf would take much heed of an order given by an elf, my Lord. Even a king."

He felt a small smile lift his lips. Her cheeky reaction was reminiscent of his fiery Tauriel. Rising from his seat, he bowed his head in affirmation. "Agreed, but I feel it was my duty to make the attempt."

She bit her lip to keep from smiling and it warmed him. "It is good to see you smile again, Tauriel. I feared that I had seen the last of such things."

"It is good to have reason to smile, my Lord," she said, her voice even, but a mild blush coming to her cheeks at the unexpected compliment.

His expression turned gentle. "I will leave you to finish your meal, then," he said, taking a step toward the door. Then, he motioned to a cot, which had been placed against the far wall of the room. "And I order you to rest. He is recovering. As I told you, it will take time."

Before he could leave, her voice interrupted him. "I thought you said we have things to discuss."

He turned back, forcing his response to be even and patient. "There is no need to do so until he awakens."

She appeared confused. "But, won't his people wish to see him?"

Thranduil frowned. Her world had revolved around the fate of the one dwarf and, having shut herself away, she was probably not even aware of all the events that had happened during the battle. Not wanting a lengthy conversation, he decided to give only the most pertinent facts. "His brother and uncle are dead, Tauriel," he said softly. "The others do not yet know that he lives."

She appeared saddened by the news for a moment, her mind processing the information. He remained silent, knowing that it would only take her a few moments to reach a particular conclusion. He was rewarded by watching her sadness disappear, her eyes flash in realization, and her mouth drop open slightly before she spoke.

She looked up at him, her eyes wide. "That leaves Kili..."

He nodded solemnly. "Yes," he said in confirmation to what she was thinking.

"We must tell them," she said, her voice trembling slightly with urgency. "We must tell them or they will think that we have stolen the heir to the throne of Erabor."

A part of him was annoyed that she questioned his judgment on the matter, and another part of him rejoiced for the same reason – because that was his Tauriel. She was still full of youth and a sense of righteousness that made her overly impulsive. There was much that she needed to learn.

He chose to deal with her reaction with patience. "Perhaps. But, at the moment, they think that the orcs tossed his body into the chasm below where you fought. Winter has set in, making it impossible to search. They are not looking for him. That is all you need to know."

"But," she continued with desperation, "My Lord, we would risk war if they find out that we have hidden him."

His Tauriel was still young and rash and idealistic. He almost smiled at the look of alarm in her eyes as she came to the logical conclusion of their action. Yes, they had indeed stolen the prince under the mountain and, indeed, their action could risk a conflict, but the people of Dale and Erebor were still recovering from a horrific attack and battle. They would be reluctant to enter another. There were many possible outcomes, and war was not his concern at the moment.

"I have thought much of this through, Tauriel. For the moment, the dwarf is where he needs to be, in the best interest of all. You must trust me," he said calmly.

He could see the uncertainty in her eyes and it saddened him to think that his past actions had caused her to doubt him. There were many reasons for keeping the dwarf hidden for the moment and not all of them were in the best interest of Mirkwood.

Thranduil took a deep breath. "If the dwarves know that he lives, they will take him, and you will not be allowed to see him ever again." He paused to give meaning to his next words, letting her see the utter truth in his eyes. "I did not save him so that the dwarves might have their king." With hope, he watched for her reaction and was not disappointed. Her gaze softened and he saw an echo of the child who had adored him at one time. She now knew that he'd saved the dwarf for her benefit alone. It was a first step to repairing the deep rift that he'd formed in his relationship with the elleth.

He opened the door and began to step out, but paused, turning back to see her still standing in the middle of the room, shocked and trying to comprehend the meaning of his words. "I have bought you time, Tauriel. I suggest you use it wisely. And I remind you again, do not hold too much hope. The dwarf loves you, I have no doubt, but he also will feel obligated to return to his own. You must prepare yourself."

\- x -

Tauriel stared at the door for some time after her king departed, stunned. His final words echoed in her head. They would take Kili and keep him from her. The king had put Mirkwood at risk to buy her time. It was a shocking revelation.

She dropped her gaze to the still-unconscious dwarf.

Kili.

"_He loves you. I have no doubt." _

Her heart raced. Her king had bought her time, but for what? Did Kili live, only to break her heart again when he woke and returned to the mountain? It was too soon to think of such things, since he hadn't recovered enough to awaken. Perhaps he might never recover.

She looked over at the cot, suddenly feeling more exhausted than she had ever felt in her life. Thranduil had commanded her to rest, and she knew that he was correct in doing so. But then, she looked back to Kili, watching his face, so peaceful and youthful in sleep.

She knew so little of him, but then, she remembered a moment on a crowded beach, when he'd laid his heart bare and asked her to come with him. She remembered the hurt in his eyes when she'd chosen her duty instead. She remembered the joy she'd felt when she saw the stone in her hand, promising that he'd return to her. She'd lost her heart to him in that moment, watching him sail away. There was no going back.

Perhaps she was too exhausted and not thinking properly, but she decided that, if she only had a little time, then she intended to make the best of it.

Removing the top layer of her dress, leaving her in a light shift, she crawled into the bed, curling up next to Kili's warm body, although not quite touching him, and closed her eyes. "Goodnight,_ meleth nin_," she said, before drifting off into a deep but troubled sleep.

\- x

**Thank you again for you wonderful follows and reviews. I do hope you enjoyed the arc shifting to some of Tauriel's perspective. Do not fear, we will be going back to our king again, but now he needs to share time. :)**


	4. Chapter 4 - Awakening

Helplessly she watched, unable to move, reaching forward as she saw the blade plunge into Kili's chest. She saw his pain, and saw his lips move to form that foreign word.

"_I think you know what it means,_" he'd said, when they were on the shore of the lake.

Yes, she knew. In her heart she knew that it meant that he felt for her as strongly as she felt for him. But words of love meant nothing when faced with the cruelty of an orc. She watched a single tear trail down his cheek as the life faded from his body.

"No!" She jolted awake, her breath coming in fast gasps. This was why she'd refused to sleep, because she knew the memories would haunt her.

"_It was just a dream." _

She could almost hear the sweet words that he'd spoken while they were in Laketown. But this had been a nightmare, not a dream. She'd fallen in love with a dwarf who spoke of sweet dreams, not nightmares.

She turned in the bed and realized that he was still next to her, his body warm and comforting. In a way, she felt guilty, sleeping next to him without his knowledge or permission, but Thranduil's words had haunted her.

"_Make the most of your time." _

The familiar dread and panic gripped her heart as she remembered that he was lying in a state that was neither dead nor alive. A quick check out her window at the lightening sky confirmed that she'd been asleep for several hours and she immediately worried that his status might have changed while she'd selfishly been resting. With trepidation, and without looking at him, she reached over to touch his chest to verify that his heart still beat within, and his chest continued to rise and fall steadily with breath.

She grasped Kili's warm hand, running her fingers over the rough surface. It was so unlike any elf's hand, large and rough, but she grasped it firmly, pulling it to her face and placing a kiss onto the calloused palm.

A sigh of relief escaped from her lips.

And it was answered by the low rumble of a laugh, followed by the sound of a deep, gentle voice. "Am I dreaming again?"

Her eyes flew open and she turned toward him with uncanny speed to see the warm brown eyes that had opened her heart. Perhaps she was still dreaming, but she didn't care because the joy that filled her in that moment made her feel more alive than she'd felt in days. She remembered that he'd said the same thing: that she made him feel alive. As much as she hadn't wanted to feel love at the loss of him, now she didn't want anything else.

Tears watered her eyes for the thousandth time in the past week, but this time, they were tears of joy and disbelief. She reached a trembling hand up to touch his face, her fingers ghosting against the scruffy almost-beard that covered his chin.

"If you are dreaming, then I am dreaming with you, and I do not wish to wake."

His hand covered hers, holding it against his cheek. "Then, we're in agreement," he said, his beautiful smile lighting his face. They lay like that for a minute or two, neither wanting to break the spell that surrounded them. He turned his head to lay a soft kiss against her hand. "I don't know how we came to be like this, but I can only say that I'm grateful," he said, giving her a saucy wink.

The innuendo of his words were emphasized by the impish gleam in his eyes, reminding her that their position was highly inappropriate at best. As the sleep cleared from her head, an embarrassed flush came to her cheeks.

Their position was chaste, neither touching, except for her hand on his face, but she suddenly felt quite awkward and embarrassed. Other than perhaps resting with companions while traveling, sleeping next to someone, sharing a bed – unless married – was highly unusual. He'd been unconscious and she'd taken advantage by crawling into the bed to be near him. Granted, he didn't seem to mind at the moment, but that was not the point.

As his hand brushed against her bare arm, she realized that she was only clothed in a light shift. An undergarment. And he was clothed in nothing more than the long shirt that she'd crafted for him. 

The touch jolted her fully awake and she he sat up abruptly, looking away from him and blushing down to her toes, attempting to gather her wits about her.

"Tauriel, what's wrong?" he asked, clearly concerned.

Her mouth opened once or twice before she gathered the nerve to speak. "This is not proper. I apologize..." she stammered. "I should not have taken advantage..." Her loss for words was highly unusual, but it was a highly unusual circumstance.

He chuckled, and she felt herself shiver at the sound. His laugh was warm and rich and she loved hearing it. It made her smile and she turned her head to look back at him shyly. His smile lit his face, making his eyes twinkle like the stars. He reached for her hand, which was clutching nervously at the bedsheets. "I don't mind," he said softly and she could almost feel the flirtatious grin that lifted his lips. Lips that she had kissed, without him knowing, when she'd thought he was lost to her forever.

She felt a warmth spread through her body, pooling in her stomach, and an urge to turn to him and kiss him again, this time, to feel him kiss her back.

"Kili..." She wanted to say so much, but had no idea where to begin.

He tried to sit up, and she heard him gasp in pain. Forgetting her inappropriate attire, she immediately turned to him, cringing as she saw him clutch at the newly healed wound in his midsection. She placed her hand on his chest, urging him to lie back, not missing the affection in his eyes at her touch, despite his pain.

"You must rest. The king said that it would take some time for you to fully recover from your injuries."

"The king? Thoren is here?" He looked around the room, confused, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. "Where are we?"

Thoren.

She closed her eyes tightly, knowing that the news she would have to deliver would hurt him. He did not yet know the fate of his kin, and she felt a deep sadness. She turned toward him, her embarrassment forgotten and it only took a moment for him to read the sorrowful regret in her eyes.

A look of desperate panic crossed his face and he sat up abruptly, then cried out in pain, reaching for his gut and the not-fully-healed wound where Bolg's blade had pierced. She could see his eyes water in pain but he still fought to move.

Hurriedly, she reached over to stop him from trying to exit the bed. "You are still wounded, badly." She informed him. "You must rest."

He gritted his teeth in determination, his expression angry. "No! Thorin..." then he paused, his eyes closing in pain, this time an emotional pain as he recalled the memories from the battle. His voice broke as he spoke a single name, "Fili..."

He looked at her again, his eyes pleading that she would tell him that all was not as he feared. She shook her head, negatively, desperately wishing that her answer could have been different. "I'm sorry, Kili."

The overwhelming sorrow that filled his eyes nearly broke her heart. Then, without shame, he leaned forward, dropping his face into his hands and wept.

She didn't know what to do. There were no words of comfort that she could offer, so she sat there awkwardly until the urge to touch him overcame her feelings of impropriety. Gently, she placed a hand on his shoulder which he apparently welcomed, because he responded by leaning into her, resting his head on her shoulder as he spent his grief.

"I failed them. I failed them both."

She pulled away, grasping his hands and pulling them from his face so that she could look him in the eyes. "I was there. I saw how you fought. You failed no one."

Tears flowed freely down his handsome face. "He was my brother, Tauriel. All I could do was watch as they murdered him."

Once, long ago, she'd felt the same, when she'd seen her parents murdered by those foul creatures. She felt a kindred sense of anger at the injustice. It was that anger that had spurred her to becoming a warrior but it was this gentle dwarf who had opened her heart to a brighter future. It saddened her to know he was now suffering the same pain.

They sat like that for several minutes, holding hands, until Tauriel began to feel uncomfortable. She started to retract her hand, but he quickly moved to capture it, holding it firmly. With tear-filled eyes, he looked up at her. "Thank you, Tauriel. For what it's worth, I'm glad you're here."

She nodded, unsure of what to say.

He took a deep breath. "What happened to me? Where are we?"

She wasn't quite certain how to inform him that he had, in fact, died. "Your runestone held more power than either of us realized," she said. "Aule found favor when I asked him to allow you to keep your promise to me."

The confusion on his face was evident. "Aule, how?"

"King Thranduil holds much knowledge of your people from the First Age. He gave me the means to call you back to me."

Kili scowled, clearly bothered by the information. "I owe my life to an Elven king?"

Her love for Kili didn't stop her from feeling defensive about her king. "Yes, you do."

His scowl deepened. "I don't trust him."

His reaction wasn't unexpected, but now was not the time for him to question his current circumstances. "I understand, but please do not dwell on that now. I would rather you regain your strength," she said gently, placing her hand on his arm to emphasize her point.

He looked at her hand, then his eyes traced up her bare arm, a devilish smile lifting his lips and she was once again reminded of her state of undress. Quickly, she withdrew her hand.

"I apologize for my..." she paused, "unusual attire."

He chuckled. "It is not unwelcome."

She got up from the bed, her nervousness returning. She remembered her last conversation with her king, and the knowledge that Kili was now Prince Under the Mountain – even if his own kind were not yet aware that he lived. Lying next to another without their permission was bad enough, but to take such a liberty with a prince was unfathomable. Her actions of the past few days had been beyond inappropriate. No wonder the king had been treating her so strangely, as if she were a child again.

"Perhaps," she said, her voice shaking a little. "But you must rest and I must inform the king that you are awake."

He appeared ready to object, but there was no denying the tiredness in his eyes. After a moment, he nodded. "Promise me to return soon?" he said.

She gave a small smile, feeling a rush of affection toward the young dwarrow. He was injured, grieving, yet he still had that gentle, hopeful look in his eyes that had captured her heart. Part of her didn't want to leave him but she knew he likely needed some time to mourn privately. "I promise," she said, thinking of how promises between them would always have a special meaning.

Quickly, she turned her back to him, hoping he did not watch as she donned the borrowed dress that she'd worn the previous night. tried to fix her hair quickly, foregoing the braids that she normally wore due to her hurry.

Before she left, she looked back at her dwarf. He appeared sad, and she had little doubt that he was thinking of his lost kin as he stared out the window, a faraway look in his eyes. He glanced over to her, giving her a weak smile to indicate that he would be all right. She gave him an encouraging nod, and left to find her king.

xxx 


End file.
